Enemy of Wood and Sheets
by Havenhaven
Summary: FE: PoR-RD Some enemies don't helpfully point out that they are enemies by poking a spear or a sword at you, as Bastian and Geoffrey unhappily find out.


"No, no no!" Bastian groaned in misery, head on desk and hand awkwardly rubbing his back. "May demons steal you in your sleep, Geoffrey Delbray!" The knight sighed in annoyance as he stepped away from the desk, arms folded unhappily over his chest. "May sour wine burn your throat, may your unfortunate steed throw you from his back, may all the shellfish of Tellius wither and-"

"Now that," Geoffrey interrupted, having a great fondness of seafood, "-was completely uncalled for." He punctuated his displeasure by jabbing Bastian harshly on the shoulder.

Bastian nearly howled. "Desist!" he cried, jerking his shoulder away. "Desist, O villain! Continue not, thou terrible bringer of pain!" Geoffrey attempted to secure his hands on the count's shoulder, and received no more success than his last attempt. The afflicted sage rolled out of his chair, still howling, and sequestered himself beneath his desk, using teeth, nails, and a sharp pen that had fallen to ward off Geoffrey attempts to pull him back. "Never shall thee draw me forth from mine shelter, O grievous villain!"

The knight sat upon the floor and grabbed at one of Bastian's out stretched legs. He yanked on the captured limb and heard another yowl issue from the count as his back scrapped unhappily against the wooden desk. "Come out, Bastian! I know what I'm doing!"

"Thou scheming rouge, O violent scoundrel, thine deeds are wicked and thoust heart is made of malice!"

"I will come in there!"

"Try thy worst, unruly demon!" Their voices bounced off the walls and reverberated through the oaken door.

Geoffrey made good on his promise and thrust aside the chair before throwing himself beneath the desk. The two nobles met in an awkward tangle of limbs with Bastian howls of pain and Geoffrey shouts of annoyance still very much audible. The desk creaked and groaned as the two fully grown men tousled and fought under its strained cabinets. Bastian attempted to slither beneath the edge of the desk, which became difficult as Geoffrey latched him arms around the sage's knees and refused to let go.

The count pulled his shoulders clear, bumping his assaulter's head against the desk frame as he jerked forward. The abused piece of furnisher gave one last hollow creak before collapsing atop the thrashing nobles.

"O, merciful gods!" Bastian moaned, "put an end to this pain, let these pins of fire and ice be gone!"

Geoffrey pushed the fragments of desk aside before crawling forward and sitting on Bastian's legs. "Quiet down," He growled, head stinging from its collision with the drawers. He continued forward until he sat atop Bastian's lower back. Small whimpers of misery occasionally floated up to Geoffrey's ear.

With a dejected sigh he placed both hands on Bastian's shoulder blades, careful not to press to harshly. "_He_ told you to get a new bed, remember?" Bastian grunted unhappily in reply. "And when you didn't listen to _him_, even Lord Renning told you to stop sleeping at your horrible old desk."

"But t'was such a magnificent creature," Bastian quietly protested as Geoffrey attempted to prod the knots from his muscles. "-such age and history hidden in its vigorous frame. Both were made from the same oak. O what an incredible pair they were!"

"And everything would have been fine had you not insisted on sleeping in or on either," Geoffrey told him as the knotted muscles twitched beneath his kneading hands. "This is ridiculous, you know," the knight continued to scold; "Some people would think that you'd have learned you lesson after your neck got stuck that week in autumn."

Bastian huffed in annoyance, "That was no fault of my bed, villain."

"So it was just the weight of your hair and your ego that cramped you neck?" Geoffrey pressed down between the sage's shoulder blades, releasing an unheard shriek from the afflicted noble.

"Stop!" Bastian moaned. "Stop, stop stop! It's worse than it was, it's much worse than it was!" Geoffrey stood uncertainly. He'd prodded unruly muscles back into function many times before. Perhaps the combined wickedness of Bastian's bed and desk were too much for the knight's meager skills to overcome. Bastian remained on the floor, twitching now and again but otherwise remaining motionless. "I shall die," he remarked sadly. "Tell Lord Renning that I regret this premature departure from his service, tell the Queen that her dress was very lovely this morning," Geoffrey moved to the door to call a maid. "Let Lucia know that I always prized our near courtship, tell Volke that no mortal pain can tear me from his side, and that I shall haunt him with all possible affection-."

Geoffrey stubbed his toe on the door at the sudden, "I may not enjoy being haunted."

"Oh, hello darling!" Bastian replied, spirits somewhat recovered, despite his prone state. "You look wonderful this fine evening, my dear. Geoffrey; you needn't tell Volke that-."

"I can see that, Bastian," Geoffrey grumbled. "How long have you been in the window, Volke?"

"Not long enough to know why he's on the floor," Geoffrey was surprised that he'd been deemed worthy of a response. Apparently the assassin was in a friendly mood, or he was too curious to presently feign disinterest.

Bastian launched in to a sudden invigoration of pain and annoyance. "Tis a tale of backstabbery and cruel actions, O mine heart! Harken; for fault lies at none other's feet than Geoffrey of Delbray!" A maid popped in the doorway in time for the count's proclamation. Having seen said Geoffrey of Delbray and a strange man looming over the prone count she fled the room with a shrill cry of terror, calling for the guards.

Geoffrey scoffed at the sage's words, shutting the door and locking it before the guards could charge in, he doubted that Volke would care for the circumstance and would take the occasion to deprive Crimea of a few soldiers. "This is not my fault; this is your damn bed's fault!" Volke suddenly seemed much less curious and much more annoyed.

"I told you to get rid of it," Volke punctuated this with a small jab at Bastian's stomach with his boot.

Bastian groaned unhappily, "Oh merciful Angel of Night, desist thou Prince of Stealth and Shadows!"

"Yes, that's fair," Geoffrey complained, bracing his shoulder against the door as footsteps hurried down the corridor. "He kicks you and you call him an angel, I try to help you, and I'm a villain."

"Lift him," Volke commanded softly. Geoffrey came from the now vibrating door and helped the assassin to bring Bastian painfully to his feet. The knight supported the stiff and groaning sage as voices began rising outside the door. "This will hurt," Volke informed before driving his elbow into the center of Bastian's shoulder blades. The count hardly had time for a brief intake of air before he collapsed as though boneless against Geoffrey. "He will feel better when he wakes, have fun dealing with the guards."

Without another word Volke reclaimed the comatose count and escaped with him through the window, just as a dozen castle guards broke down the door.

-

Count Bastian of Fayre blinked in confusion, before recognizing the room as one of his guest chambers. He found himself comfortably sprawled across the bed. He stood with a prepared wince, ready for the searing pain to engulf his back. When no such thing happened he laughed happily and fell back upon the bed's simple coverings.

He looked towards the window and spotted a familiar assassin striding towards the bed. "Better?"

"Dearest Volke! Words cannot hope to convey the sheer bliss-." Bastian found the rest of his sentence murmured into the bedding as the assassin pounced and flipped the count, yanking his left arm painfully behind his back. "Darling?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Sleeping, perhaps?" Bastian answered uncertainly.

"On what?"

"My bed- Oh No, no, no no!" Bastian howled as Volke twisted his arm further. "Not my bed! Something else, something else!" Volke loosened his grip on the limb slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"So very sure, O dearest mine!" Bastian assured hastily. "This very hour we shall burn the one in our chambers, to be replaced directly by another; post haste!" The count heard a muttered consent before his arm was released and the irate assassin lay beside him on the gloriously pain free bed.

-

Joy, more Volke and Bastian. I'm quite attached to Geoffrey and Renning as well.


End file.
